Nom de Plume
by Bleupen-gwyn
Summary: It was sunny at that time, when Akashi Seijuro saw 'The Musician'. It was raining at that time, when Kuroko Tetsuya saw 'The Painter'. Fate has something planned for them; a 360 degree turn to make 'The Painter' and 'The Musician' to fall in-love. How can a pigment-filled road and a note-infested road crossed each other when their world is rafted by their differences? AU


**Title: Nom de Plume**

**Author: Mummified-unicorns**

**Rating: T to be safe**

**Pairing/s: Akakuro**

**Warnings: Painter!Akashi. Musician!Kuroko. Singer!Kise. The usual Kise. Implied one-sided Kikuro. Cheesiness. **

**Summary: It was sunny at that time, when Akashi Seijuro saw 'The Musician'. It was raining at that time, when Kuroko Tetsuya saw 'The Painter'. Fate has something planned for them; a 360 degree turn to make 'The Painter' and 'The Musician' to fall in-love. How can a pigment-filled road and a note-infested road crossed each other when their world is rafted by their differences? AU**

**A/N: To those people who already read my other works, this one is kind of different. (Not that much.) I have been making humour fics even since when, so I decided to make a serious fic. I am experimenting my writing style, so suggestions and comments about it are quite needed :)Aaand, a disclaimer for the lyrics of Demons by Imagine Dragon. It is not mine.**

* * *

_When the days are cold_

_And the cards all fold_

_And the saints we see_

_Are all made of gold_

* * *

It was sunny at that time. The cascading sunlight graced his face, making that pearl white skin shimmered under the soft radiant of the sun. Everyone in the park was sweating, trying to remove the fierceness of the blazing heat, but he did not realised it. He was too busy looking at those lips that are divulging those sweet cool melodies that breezed his soul. And those knuckles. Damn, he wanted to kiss those white smooth knuckles that were connected to those long fingers that kept on flicking the thin strings of the bronze-coloured guitar.

That was the first time Akashi Seijuro saw 'The Musician'.

_Is it accidental?_ He did not know. _Is it fate?_ He cannot tell. He did not believe in things like fate. He might be a painter, but he was classifying his self as a cerebral person, so why believe? Maybe, it was a one-time experience; maybe, it just happened in a whim; and maybe, there was a 1% possibility for them to saw each other again. _But he cannot help but believe in that __**small **__percentage._

"Are you listening to me, Akashicchi!?" He accidentally screeched the pen on his sketchpad as the familiar bubbly voice removed him from his stupor. The red-head manoeuvred the ball-point with a single hand as he placed it on the table and looked at the person who owned the voice.

"I am listening, Ryouta." He glanced at his sketchpad. It seemed that he unconsciously roughed out The Musician's face as he tried to imagine their first 'meeting'.

"Really?" The blonde was trying to scrutinize him, but he dejectedly slumped his body on the chair when he realised that it was a very hard task. Akashi sighed as he looked at his friend. "What am I going to do again?"

In a whim, Kise sat up and leaned close to the painter. "I knew it! You are not listening to me at all!" The singer plopped his self again as he crossed his arms in front of him. "Anyways, you are just going to make some paintings and that's all."

Akashi stirred his forgotten milk tea and put the rim of the porcelain cup to his lips as he savoured the concentrated creaminess of his drink, making his eyelids covered his dichromatic eyes while he slowly swilled down the milk tea. The red-haired painter placed the cup carefully on its paired saucer and gave the person in front of him an amused expression. "Why would I do that?" He chuckled. "I am not trying to brag, but I am a renowned painter, Ryouta. I cannot just make a painting to someone I do not know."

"Well, that is true, but technically, you are making portraits for me." He scooped a mouthful of his parfait and put it in his mouth, waiting for the other to comment.

"Technically?" The other nodded.

"I am going to give them to my songwriter." He grinned. He opened his bag and grabbed the papers inside while he showed it proudly to the painter. Akashi glanced at it and saw the erasure-infested lyrics. He can felt his eyes widened as he scanned the words formulating the scores. They are quite beautiful. Every phrases, words and even dots are artistic and full of life. He smiled. This person's Muse are alive and kicking, _unlike someone_. "Good…They are all well-done."

"See!? I told you. That is the very reason why I fell for him." The singer scratched his head and glanced at the red-head. "You are not…disgusted right, Akashicchi?"

He? Disgusted? Why? "No. Not at all."

"That is good." He sighed and looked at the melting vanilla of his parfait. He got the spoon and scooped the trickling dessert from the rim of his glass. "You know Akashicchi, my only wish is for him to write a song for me and me only." The blonde put the eating device near his lips and smiled sincerely. "Then, I am going to sing for him and him only." He intricately licked the sweet delicacy, until he devoured it whole.

"Then why painting?"

"Kurokocchi loves painting. Actually, his inspirations for his works came from his art exhibit hopping." Kise set aside his desert and grinned. "Deal?" He laid his hand open and looked at the soul-piercing dichromatic eyes of the person in front of him. The other stared at the hand and eventually put his line of vision to the blonde singer. He smirked.

"Deal."

___Possibility__ in_ meeting 'The Musician' again: 10%

* * *

Akashi Seijuro knew that he was doomed. He did not know what gotten into him to have a deal with his fuzz-ball friend, but it was too late now. The painter forgot to tell him that the core of his inspiration was gone. Maybe his Muse was a suicidal one and went to Atlantic Ocean just to drowned itself. He sighed as he stared nonchalantly at the blemish-free and ivory-coloured paper. It made him remember the untainted skin of a certain individual at that particular sunny day. The painter caressed the paper delicately using his paint-less brush. He touched it slowly, imagining what would be the beautiful outcome if he would paint _that _skin using his own sweat, saliva and cu-

_*crash*_

Akashi closed his eyes as he breathed away his pent-up desire because of the recent provocative and wild fantasy he just had. He opened his eyes again and looked at his broken window. Maybe he needed to go out for now to breathe some fresh air and buy a replacement for the brush he just used as a boomerang.

And also to try his luck if he can see 'The Musician'.

That park was his so-called sanctuary. Akashi did not know who stayed there the longest between him and 'The Musician', but one thing for sure; he stayed in the secluded part. That was what he knew before he decided to place his self on the fountain where he first saw _him. _He was surprised, that's for sure. As he sat on the of the cemented corner that was caging the beautiful flowing water; every place was covered, except for his place; the place where he always did his paintings. The painter closed his eyes and envisioned that fated day. Painters are good at imagining, but never in reality. That is why he did not see a pair of indifferent eyes looked at him. The person just smiled and left. We cannot decipher what was going inside that person's mind, but one thing for sure; pure bliss was carved on his face.

___Possibility__ in_ meeting 'The Musician' again: 60%

* * *

Addicting. Intoxicating and mind-blowing. That was his voice. Every strung of his guitar, every gesture his lips were doing, every vibrato he can hear in his voice; _everything _was magnificent. The Musician's voice was not angelic. If there was one thing that can describe it, fireworks would be perfect. Yes, fireworks. It was truly unexpected, until you would see the colourful outcome. Akashi wanted to savour everything. He wanted that voice; he wanted that person, he wanted that candle-like fingers; he wanted him whole. Even though he compared him to a firework, the painter wished that their meetings would not be like those dancing fire flowers.

That is why when he saw him again, tuning his guitar; he was broken by two decisions. It was not a life and death situation, but he knew, this resolution can changed everything. It was like choosing the right colour for the small hidden apple in your paintings. You can put bloody red, but what if the chosen pigment cannot make the painter's feelings be expressed? Then, it would just spoiled everything.

Akashi's feeling would just be wasted.

That was why he just put back his painting materials inside his bag and walked out, trying his very best to ignore the blasting sensations of the other's voice.

_Possibility__ in meeting 'The Musician' again: 50%_

* * *

It was a simple day. A time for brushes and oil-based paints. A time for luscious leaves and psychedelic-themed arts. A time for guitar scores and the apple of his eye.

The red-head painter was intricately copying the glistening river in front of him. He twitched. It seemed like he had been twitching so often whenever some strands of his hair blocked the beautiful scene that resided right in front of his eyes. He knew it even before that his bangs were a big bother. Akashi did not have enough time to trim his red locks, because of the continuous art exhibits that were flooding his already busy schedule. He cursed under his breath as he poured another generous amount of figment on his palette. Because of his extensive tresses, the painter did not noticed the approaching shadow. As he felt a cold hand brushed his hair away, Akashi found his self looking fixedly at those turquoise orbs he was just seeing in his dreams and his recent paintings. The red-head blinked. Do not tell him that The Musician went here just to brushed his hair away.

"Your eyes are beautiful." He clipped the red locks aside. "Don't hide them, please."

"Come again?"

"Your eyes." He commented as he leaned over the red-haired. "They are so mysterious. It is like heaven and hell. The seven depths of the underworld and the golden gates of the upper-world. They are so…enticing"

Akashi can feel the other's breath tickling his lips. If only he was a typical shojo manga character, he was already blushing all-over right now, but he was not. He is Akashi Seijuro and even though he was infatuated with this man, he will not do embarrassing things like that.

_Oh._ He blushed. How cute.

"I-I am sorry for breaking your space bubble. I am going now." He bowed discreetly and walked out, but the pencil-stained white paper in the Musician's hand did not go unnoticed to the dichromatic eyes.

"_So they dug your grave, and the masquerade will come calling out at the mess you made."_

The sudden words that flied out from the painter's mouth made the Musician looked at him with a slight widened eyes.

"Um…That is…"

Akashi pointed out with his pigment-stained finger to the paper that the teal-haired guitarist was holding. "Your song. It seems like you are having a predicament with it. Writer's block, I might say."

He can saw a small tug on the corner of the other's lips as he scribbled out the said lyrics. He put the pencil in the pocket of his black trousers and looked up. "You know the tune of my song?"

The other just shrugged and got his ignored paint brush from the ground. Akashi noticed the slight whimpering that the other is doing. He looked again to him and smirked. He was now looking highly of himself on how he can manage to wrap-up his feelings inside, even though the man he was waiting ever since when was already here in front of him. "What is it? I am not easily hurt with a simple bundle of words."

The other was surprised. He looked at his feet and glanced at the man who can still managed to sit elegantly in a grass-covered ground. He looked at him with his signature stoic eyes and nodded. "You have a good voice, painter-san. Treasure it more."

And he walked out.

___Possibility__ in m_eeting 'The Musician' again: 0%

* * *

_Don't want to let you down_

_But I am hell bound_

_Though this is all for you_

_Don't want to hide the truth_

* * *

It was raining at that time. The drizzling water was trickling down on the pale skin, making the black dress shirt drenched and revealed a toned and lean body that was chiseled by the pouring rain. The mob of red locks served as his umbrella. He just watched the man continue to paint, not caring for the wasted paints that were tarnishing the floor, or the dripping rain water in every bundle of red strands. Blood-like hair. The bloodiness of that hair, the concentration of those eyes and the bony wrist that moved artistically did allured him to the man. The situation was surreal. But what he just remembered was the peculiar feeling of wanting to be stained by blood. Wanting to be stain by him.

That was the first time Kuroko Tetsuya saw 'The Painter'.

He did not see him again after that time, but as he decided to visit an art exhibit, he can definitely recogised the painting that was displayed. It was really his. Kuroko began his habit of hopping from an art exhibit to another just to see more of his paintings. He became his Muse.

Kuroko decided to work as a songwriter. He did not care about income, which was why it really fascinated him when he decided to work without thinking. Maybe, he had this secret intention for the Painter to noticed his works. Though there was only a small percentage. After all, he was the type of person who works by his self.

That was when he met Kise Ryouta. If Kuroko would describe him, he was a fine and special person to him. When he learnt that he would make songs for this well-known singer, he tried to composed songs for him. He knew the infatuation of the said man to him, so he accepted it He tried his very best to removed his mind to the Painter, but he cannot. His feelings still belong to that certain individual. It was like removing music entirely in his life.

Do not get him wrong, the type of 'special' he mentioned was not love, but a person who was always with him whenever he needed someone, a brother to be exact. Even though, his 'love' is different from his feelings, he still tried to appreciate everything he was giving him.

Making the Singer a replacement to the missing Painter.

___Possibility__ in m_eeting 'The Painter' again: 5%

* * *

Kuroko Tetsuya's apartment was the epitome of an artist's den. Disposable milkshake cups scattered in different places; over-bearing rubbish bins and dog toys everywhere. But the peculiar objects in his small studio apartment were the paintings nailed properly on his wall.

The teal-haired musician scowled as he strung the same key in his guitar. He sighed. It seemed like everything was futile.

"Nigou," He breathed out his pet's name while staring at the post-modern painting in front of him. "He is still not painting after three months of being hiatus."

He grumbled under his breath as he slumped his head on his wooden desk. "..Have no Muse."

The Siberian Husky woofed as he pushed the vibrating plastic cup to its owner. Kuroko glanced at his forgotten device inside and saw the particular blonde singer calling him. He grabbed the phone and tapped the call button. The musician turned on the speaker as he pulled his drink and sipped the frothy milk inside.

"Kurokocchi!"

"What is it, Kise-kun?" He mumbled while the straw was still inside his mouth.

"I'm here outside your apartment. I have a present for you!" Silence was heard on the other line. The blonde grumbled when the person he was expecting was still not doing anything. "Open this up, Kurokocchi!"

"…All right." Kuroko lookd at his dog, gesturing the other to look at the door.

"Nigou, can you open the door?" the dog just wagged his tail as a response. He sighed and stood up slowly. As he started moving his right foot, a box suddenly appeared and tripped him. Good thing a make-shift bed made of crumpled paper saved him from the hard ground of his house.

"Ah..I want to sleep." But the continuous ringing of the doorbell removed him from his stupor.

He got up and opened the door for the hopping blonde to enter. As always, the blonde hugged him immediately the second he saw those mops of sky blue hair. He got the square-shaped present and placed it in front of the other's face. The taller of the two gestured him to get it and opened it up, making the other to sigh and lazily ripped off the manila paper that were covering the present. Kuroko can felt his eyes widened as he identified the person who made this sole painting.

"Do you like it, Kurokocchi?" the said person just mutely nodded as he wa still looking at the artwork with fascinated eyes.

"Well, I need to go now. I just went here to gave you that immediately."

Kuroko smiled at the blonde. He hugs the painting tightly yet delicately and looked at Kise. "Thank you, Kise-kun."

"No problem, Kurokocchi!"

___Possibility__ in m_eeting 'The Painter' again: 15%

* * *

If Kuroko Tetsuya would describe the Painter's artworks in one word, the first thing that would pass his mind was the word, 'clock'. Everything about him was past-pacing yet beautifully enticing. It made you felt like it was a necessity to look at it, ordering you to stare and bare your eyes at it until you would realised the artist's perspective inside.

But sometimes, paintings were becoming to be utterly boring once you looked at it longer than you intended. That was why the musician sweared to his self that once he tasted the bittersweet pigment of the Painter, he wpuld definitely go his own way. After all, he was not planning to have a steady and trust-infested relationship with the said man. Or to anyone else. But as he looked at his beautifully-written lyrics, Kuroko knew it deeply that he was already chained by the man's canvas. He was terrified; terrified that the man who caught his lyrics-tainted heart would just throw him away like the wasted paints at that particular rainy day.

Now, he was having this feeling that maybe, the possibility of his predicament to happen was getting bigger as he saw the retreating figure of the Painter accidentally, while he was tuning his trustee guitar. He felt a numb sensation inside him, but as he breathed in and got ready to sang the song he just made, he decided to change his thinking. Perhaps their roads were not intended to cross. Every note that did dictated his life was not the same for the colours that made the other person's bland life to be full of life.

___Possibility__ in m_eeting 'The Painter' again: 0%

* * *

The teal-haired musician was now being pressured by the upcoming album release of Kise Ryouta. He already made a couple of lyrics, but he was now running out of ideas. Maybe sitting here in the park with a milkshake on the left hand and a pen on the other was not helping at all. Kuroko looked at his cup with the same expression. He was now having an urge to make a song about how wonderful milkshakes were.

As he was going to do his outrageous idea, he noticed the irritated red-head who was trying his very best to concentrate in painting the river in front of him. Kuroko did not know what had gotten into him to went directly where the man was and clipped his red locks out of his face. He even said embarrassing things to him. But it looked like everything was worth it. He had a brief talk with him; he finished another song and he heard his singing voice.

"I thought he was going to give me a couple of phrases for the lyrics of my milkshakes song."

Perhaps, songwriting career was not suitable for Kuroko Tetsuya at all.

___Possibility__ in m_eeting 'The Painter' again: 80%

* * *

The way they meet each other again was quite unexpected. It was like you were watching a comedic drama with touch of a cliché type soap opera. Akashi knew this story. It was either he watched it accidentally when he was channel surfing or read it somewhere. The part where the protagonist would know that his leading lady was an acquaintance of his close friend; and that close friend was deeply in-love with her. But here was the idiotic protagonist, he promised his friend that he would helped him in achieving that certain girl, not knowing the love of his life and the said girl were just the same.

"So, Akashicchi! This is Kurokocch- I mean, Kuroko Tetsuya. The one I am talking to you about." Kise nudged him and grinned idiotically.

"And Kurokocchi! This is Akashi Seijuro. A close friend of mine. The painter who made those artworks I am giving you."

Appreciations were performed. The two got separated by the revelation that just happened. The place was so dark; both were drowning their selves by the water of death, liquor to be precise. Drowning problems? No, sinking their fascination, lust, and agony that they were connected ever since. But the poison they were drinking was a mischievous one. As they located each other by their clouded eyes, the two caught the bait and ate it ravenously. They jammed each other's lips, removing the lid of their feelings and started feeling each other's cavern using their tongues. Oh, how it danced gracefully and artistically. Ascendancy is a must, but the red-haired easily obtained it. Their kiss was soiled with each other's saliva, not caring about etiquettes and senseless things like that. They started feeling each other. The painter touches the soft milky skin under the bothering piece of cloth; treating it like a canvas. The musician scratches the fibrous body; like a pen who excitingly writes his new-found lyrics.

They went all the way. Perceiving the illicit sexual desire between two bodies. Suppressed moans filled with lust were heard. Slapping of skins were done. Calling of names was given and discreet love words graces their minds.

But did they notice their surroundings? No, they did not notice even once, the crest-fallen and betrayed face of Kise Ryouta. How harsh love is.

___Possibility__ in m_eeting each other again: 100-90-80-70-60-50-40-30-20-10-5-1-0

_Don't know. Let them decide._

* * *

Kuroko Tetsuya was a man of his words. Once he promised something, he was not intending it to be broken, even though it means that he needed to throw away all the possibilities.

Possibilities that Akashi Seijuro did reciprocate his feelings too.

That night was a pleasant yet regretful memory. It was in the borderline of fantasy and reality, but he knew that those kind of memories were not mean to be kept, but to be forgotten.

The musician luckily woke up early on the next morning. After he submitted his songs for Kise's next album, he immediately quit his job. He went straightly home, packed his things, cleaned-up and booked a transportation going to an unknown province. Maybe he can redeem his old self there. After all that happened, he was not intending to show his face again to that man. He would just be a part of this poor and unlucky musician's life history.

As he opened his window to welcome a new day in his new house, he immediately noticed the peculiar weather. The sun is still in its highest glory, but the drizzles of water do took place today. Kuroko went where Nigou was and put the red leash on the neck of his dog. He can use this day to get familiarize with this place and to walked his pet.

Well, this was where it all began. Not when the painter saw the musician on a particular sunny day. Not when the musician saw the painter on a particular rainy day. Not when their lives crossed using their blonde friend and some paintings. Not when the exchange of lyrics and clips happened. Not when that fated night eventually exist. They are just simple unnecessary details, because the wheel of fate started to move when his dog became missing.

Kuroko tried to find his beloved dog. Let us just say that the red leash that was hugging the dog's neck symbolises the red string of fate he let go, as he tried to forget his feelings and cut all ties. He would just find his dog if he would realised the sole mistake he just had done.

And what happened to the other person? The dog was with Akashi Seijuro. He too, was wrong. He just let everything happened; letting the red string in his finger got dragged by him and not knowing who was on the end point. It seemed like the god of love was infuriated. Just like what happened on the string, the god of love dragged the painter out of his comfort zone, going in an unknown province. We can see that the god huffs. Let us just leave everything on the two idiots, shall we?

Kuroko found the dog. He followed a trail of red paw-prints and immediately saw his paint-stained dog. But he also found that heterochromatic eyes looking at him bewildered. It appeared like something or someone possessed him as they closed their distance.

"Do you know that I do not believe in fate, Tetsuya?" The other chuckled.

"I do think so. But Akashi-kun, do you believe that I hate things like 'fate'?" The said person smirked as he crossed his arm.

"It looks like Fate is a terrible trickster." He commented. Akashi glanced at the teal-haired while he tried to clean his dirty hands by wiping it on his apron. "Let us start this again."

He opened his hand towards Kuroko, gesturing the other to shake hands with him. "I am Akashi Seijuro. A painter. Nice to meet you."

Kuroko put his hand on the other and shaked it. "I am Kuroko Tetsuya. A musician, but not that known unlike you. Nice to meet you too."

Their hands intertwined. It seemed like they were playing a hand game by their selves. No one will remove its hand, or else everything would be broken. After all, no one can and they just grinned at each other like two people madly in-love. Yes, they are out-of-character. But that what makes them human, right?

_Falling in-love: Nah…It cannot be measured._

* * *

_When you feel my heat_

_Look into my eyes_

_It's where my demons hide_

_It's where my demons hide_

_Don't get too close_

_It's dark inside_

_It's where demons hide_

_It's where my demons hide_

* * *

**_A/N: So..How was it? Truth to be told, I am not quite sure about this one. Thank you for reading until the end! _**

**_Reviews are greatly appreciated._**


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